


i can never regret you

by httproblematic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Pining, Self-Harm, bad at tags, sad Oikawa :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httproblematic/pseuds/httproblematic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa doesn't remember when he starts to feel himself falling, but it catches him by surprise and all at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can never regret you

Their friendship starts slow. Blossoms like a bud at the first signs of spring, before exploding into bright, stunning color and petals as soft as silk. They grow, and soon, Oikawa feels himself attached each year they get older, much closer than he's ever felt to anyone. He has other friends, of course. There's just something different about the way Iwaizumi says his name and the way his green eyes look under dim light. The way they glow like a lantern, bold and sure, giving away everything he feels. 

It takes awhile for Oikawa to realize that he stares at the pink, pillow plush of Iwaizumi's lips too long and that it doesn't feel too friendly afterall. The way he stares at his arms and imagines the way they'd tangle and wind around his waist like a train winding around its tracks, keeping a steady pace. 

He isn't sure of when it starts. When Iwaizumi stops looking like the 4 year old boy inside the sandbox, marveling at the ants marching off towards their hill. When he stops looking like chocolate chip cookies and alien bandaids that he begged and pleaded for on hand and knee, right before his mother gave in, unable to deny him of what he wants. 

He can see the way she looks at him now, grown up and grown into his life, with sad eyes as she watches her only son fall. This is not something his mother can buy him in the cornerstore, because money can't buy you the love of your best friend or honest confidence, and it is a rule written in the imaginary book of the universe that the teenager has grown to despise. 

They're not together, not really, and he knows this, tries to remind himself of this fact whenever they get too close too fast on his rooftop, watching stars or pretending to. The air is always thick nowadays, it seems. Thick like the black coal lashes that cast shadows on Iwaizumi's cheeks, thick like mud and gravel and the sand lodged in Oikawa's throat.

When you kiss your best friend, there's no going back from it. So when he feels his hand reaching out for Iwaizumi's jaw, he stops himself. Feels the sand in his throat thicken, heavy on his tongue and teeth and everywhere. 

"What is it, Tooru?" Iwaizumi questions. 

He merely shakes his head. Soon everything is sand and dirt and debris. He's buried in the silence he creates.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." 

\----------

As it turns out, he doesn't remember a lot of things. Doesn't remember the exact moment smiling feels like a chore, the exact moment he becomes afraid of the mirror. 

Afraid of his reflection staring back with too brown, too tired eyes and too milky, too chalky skin, nothing like the smooth, liquid gold of Iwaizumi's, warm and solid and real. 

He starts to cover his mirror. It starts with a t-shirt, thrown haphazardly over the glass, before he covers it in a garbage bag and tape, covers his eyes in the bathroom when he passes by naked, burns holes into the sink when he looks down to brush his teeth. 

He puts his uniform on blindly, relies on his mother to point out flaws, wonders why she never does when they are written on his body in angry, screaming lines of red like spilled ink, littering his chest and his upper thighs and every place no one has gotten close enough to touch. 

When he starts to change inside of a bathroom stall after practice, his friends cast worried glances and look back at him with confused eyes. He doesn't acknowledge a thing, smiles with pearly teeth and crinkling eyes, fakefakefake, shying away from the scowl Iwaizumi begins to sport, because no matter how far he strays, Iwaizumi still knows him better than anyone. He doesn't know when he starts to hate this fact. 

\-----

"What is the matter with you?" Iwaizumi asks him one day after practice. His voice is even but he can hear the anger seeping into his tone like water seeping through a towel. Like the love for this idiot boy seeping out of Oikawa's body, pouring from his heart and soul, filling his lungs and eyes and ears and everywhere from his head to his toes. 

He wonders when he became so full of the need to kiss and touch and hold the boy yelling at him. He wonders how he didn't notice. He doesn't notice a lot of things, anymore. 

"What are you talking about, Iwa-chan?" He asks, a laugh even fake to his own ears snaking its way out from his throat.

Iwaizumi groans in disbelief, dragging a hand across his face, and Oikawa can see him counting to 10 inside of his head, can see the gears whirring and clashing, just the way Hanamaki and Matsukawa had taught him jokingly at the beginning of the year. 

('Not so harsh on Oiks, Iwa-chan!' Hanamaki shouts, a sly smile on his lips. 

Matsukawa barks out a laugh, the sound booming and sharp like thunder in a storm. 

'Yeah, Iwa-chan, don't you know anything about keeping cool? Just count to 10.') 

He remembers that day clear like water, how Iwaizumi had lulled on it before realizing that it was an honest, effective way of "keeping cool," as they put it. He would never tell them out loud, but when the pair had gotten into a disagreement, he admitted it to Oikawa on the roof of his home under stars and moonshine. When Oikawa asked him why he listened, Iwaizumi's answer was, "you don't deserve to be screamed at."

It works, even now. Even when he feels he deserves every ounce of the yelling. 

"Don't give me any of that, Oikawa," he snarls, and he sees redredred, no more calm and cool shades of blue. "You haven't been eating, you've been ignoring my calls, you don't sit with me on the bus anymore, you're changing in a goddamn bathroom stall," he all but shouts, missing the way Oikawa's body trembles. 

"You aren't you anymore." He says, and Oikawa opens his mouth to protest, to yell, to plead the fifth, but no sound comes out and he doesn't force it. Can't force it. 

He finds his voice eventually. Finds it at the bottom of a barrel, wet and weak and tired. 

"I'm fine.." He says, but he doesn't believe himself anymore, and Iwaizumi never did. 

"Tooru," Iwaizumi whispers, pleading and honest in the way that makes Oikawa regret ever meeting him, regret declaring their friendship in a sandbox over cookies and ants and bandaids, regret ever meeting his eyes because he can't be "just friends" anymore, can't take not kissing him hard and real, lips on lips and tongue against tongue. 

The tears come fast even when he wills them away, and he wonders why his whole entire being is out to get him. His brain, his heart, and his body all at once. 

Iwaizumi's arms come around him quicker, before the first tears ever fall, before the first apology rips itself from his lips.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." He sobs, tears soaking the shoulder of Iwaizumi's uniform. 

The boy tightens the grip of his arms around Oikawa's waist, and Oikawa thinks that if this were a movie, those arms would feel less like drowning and more like salvation. 

"No, I'm sorry.." He whispers, and Oikawa tries not to dwell on the crack of his words. "I should've known sooner." 

"Known what?" Oikawa mumbles into the damp fabric. He tries not to focus on the way his heartbeat picks up, the way his stomach drops like he knows what is coming, like he knows he could've never hid it, never tried to hide. 

"You're hurting yourself, aren't you?" Iwaizumi asks, pulling back to look at him. 

Oikawa sputters out excuses, tries to be shocked and surprised at the accusations, but his eyes give him away as they always will and always have. He tries not to flinch under the disappointed gaze Iwaizumi gives him, but he does and it's visible and he can't do anything right, can't keep himself grounded or under control and Iwaizumi probably hates him, probably hates everything about him–

"Tooru, stop." He demands.

Oikawa can't see him clear through his blurry vision but he knows that he looks angry, sounds angry, and the tears fall hot on his face when rough hands are gripping at his wrists, pulling and ripping him forwards, and it hurts more than metal against skin. So much more than anything else. 

"Stop torturing yourself like that. I don't hate you, I'm not mad at you, I don't want to leave you. I can't leave you, I would never, I love you and I'm here and my heart is beating. But you need to let me help you and you need to show me what you've done because your heart needs to keep beating, too, or so help me God, Tooru.." He grits out, eyes red and wet. 

Oikawa can't hear anything else, but Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou echoing in his ears, and before he can snap out of his trance his shirt is being tugged up and off, and he is left with nothing to protect himself. 

The look on Iwaizumi's face could haunt him to the grave. The way those beautiful green eyes turn dark and stormy like a cloud before a hurricane. The way they stay soaking in every angry line, slash, word written into milk white skin, and he knows that he's disgusting, knows it like he knows anything else, but he knows that the look on the boy's face is not disgust but something of hurt and an emotion he does not know the name of until he is yanked into a hug, calloused fingers rubbing up and down the smooth of his back. 

('I love you, Tooru....') 

"Don't you dare, Tooru, don't you do this ever again," he sobs, and the sound is like the sound of heaven falling. He never wants to hear it again. 

"I won't," he mumbles, mind coated in surprise and something strange, like remembering what it feels like to know that your best friend loves you, that your best friend has always loved you even though you have never loved you, that your best friend would move a mountain and hit you to make you realize that you're something made of "enough." 

"Don't hurt yourself, don't hurt yourself, I love you. Tooru, please. Don't do this, okay? Tell me where else.." He demands, and Oikawa gasps through his sobs, because it is so much at once and he can feel ice melting inside of his chest, can feel bridges being built and walls crumbling in ruins. 

"It's okay, Tooru, I'm sorry. Baby steps, okay? I didn't mean to make you cry, I'm so so-"

"Don't apologize, Hajime, I love you!" He yells, voice horse and weepy. When Haijime's eyes give off their lantern glow moments later, his heart stutters in the best way and he doesn't regret a thing about meeting Hajime. 

They're kissing and his lips aren't as soft as they look, chapped in some spots and smooth in others, and he tastes like salt from his tears and peppermint gum. It is nothing he imagined but everything he wants, and he finds his hands tugging at Hajime's own shirt like he's only imagined 5000 times through and through before. 

When they make love in Oikawa's bedroom later that night, Iwaizumi pressed deep and hot inside of Oikawa, Iwaizumi sucks marks into his milky skin that look a lot less like pain and a lot more like love. Oikawa moans and calls Iwaizumi's name into the air like a mantra, loving the sound of his own for a long while, groaned into his waiting ears by Iwaizumi himself, and it is the first step towards the surface he has taken in a long time. 

\---- 

"I love you..." Oikawa whispers, glancing over to his bedroom mirror (Iwaizumi had rid of the garbage bags quickly, pressed kisses to the corners of Oikawa's eyes the whole way, shedding the pale boy of his clothing piece by piece) at the image of them laying in bed together, naked and exposed. He looks good inside of Iwaizumi's arms, he decides, feels good and safe and important and beautiful. 

"And I love you, Tooru.." He responds, easy and honest as if being asked for the time. 

"Always?" He questions, eyes meeting the glowing orbs that his boyfriend has been gifted with. 

Iwaizumi smiles at him and it looks something like melted caramel and happy dreams.  
He can feel heat bloom in his chest like a flower in spring, can feel the entire sun shining over his body, heat sprouting inside of his chest and he wonders how he is not glowing from the inside out with love for this boy. 

"I love you every time, Tooru. Always and every time."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, my babies. :) I hope it wasn't too sad for you. I was doing a bit of venting through this fic, and it's my second one posted onto this site, so I hope it's a bit better than my other piece. I relate to Oikawa quite a bit so I figured I would give it a try. Leave me some feedback and let me know if you liked it! I'm also always up for requests. Thanks again. x


End file.
